HE RODE -- it was his joy to ride, For he was great and rash of soul! And there was none to let or guide For him who held a star his goal. He rode -- he rode to right a wrong! It was enough -- he could not stay! Whoever fell, his path along, The Rider still must keep his way. He rode -- he rode free and aloof! A steed he rode of heavenly race: The flint-fire flashing from the hoof -- It flashed upon my fallen face! What then? He hath attained his star, He hath achieved his heart-sworn trust: He mounts to where Immortals are; But I am dust -- blown on with dust! He rode. His heart was rash and strong. Let fall the unjust and the just! He rode -- he rode to right a wrong; He spurned the earth -- he spurned this dust! I have no voice, save as the wind Will cry for me, cry far and wide! -- Will say, "There was no ruth to bind -- It was the Rider's joy to ride!" | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A THOUGHT SUGGESTED BY A VIEW, OF SADDLEBACK IN CUMBERLAND by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE ODE SUNG IN THE TOWN HALL, CONCORD, JULY 4, 1857 by RALPH WALDO EMERSON A SHROPSHIRE LAD: 44 by ALFRED EDWARD HOUSMAN SONNET: 45 by EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY SOLOMON SCHECHTER by ALTER ABELSON EHEU, FUGACES! by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS BUILDING BLOCKS by VIRGINIA A. ALLIN |